Adam and Eve
by WhoCaresAboutPeopleBooksExist
Summary: He escaped with her. She has no doubt. Rated M, so be careful.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this is my first Fan Fiction story. I've had it in mind for a few months, letting it simmer before I thought that maybe it would be received well here. I do love Lauren Oliver's writing, but I refuse to believe that Alex and Lena do not end up together. I won't give any spoilers about anything (or at least I hope I won't), but here we'll say that it all goes according to plan. I guess I should ask for reads and reviews. Please read and review? I won't be hurt if you don't. Well, I guess enjoy. Oh, and the title of the chapters are all going to be songs. Not all by the same artist because I will try and open minds to the amazingness that is music. So this is a song by Thriving Ivory off of their sort of début album entitled Thriving Ivory (surprise, surprise). They're great and on a hiatus at the moment, even though the original three members simply started up another project under a different name. Enjoy!

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_Runaway_

I still hear his voice telling me to run even though its been hours - miles - since he spoke them. His voice was so calm even with the threat of death creeping behind us like a snake in the grass, just waiting for the right moment to attack.

My legs burn and my lungs feel on fire, breathing becomes more difficult at each footfall.

I am suddenly aware that I have not heard Alex. Not for the entire while I've - no, we've - been running. My heart clenches and worry fills me so suddenly that I stop running altogether, faltering and stumbling over a rock. I land hard the ground, thudding. Birds awake in the trees, their flapping wings seen through the trees.

A sob, quiet and forceful, escapes my throat. _Where is he?_

"Lena!" I hear his voice, shuffling through fallen leaves. It is still so controlled, but worry laces itself underneath the currents of the words. And then I hear him land behind me, his hands winding their way along my shoulders, soothing my whole body, my whole mind.

Another sob echoes through the woods, but it is not my own. I turn my head to look at Alex, tears sting behind his eyes. For a foolish, childish moment, I think he regrets taking me. Regrets saving me.

But then his hands are pulling me back, towards him. He spreads his legs and moves me between them. My back is against his chest and I can feel his heartbeat thud between the sweat and blood soaked fabric of our shirts. His head finds the curve of my neck and he places soft kisses on the grimy skin. I want to push him away, tell him this is no time to be sitting down, but his lips feel good against my skin and we both need to relax.

I turn quickly and straddle him. His legs have come together, to adjust to the new position. His eyes still look wet, but his cheeks have a rosy tinge to them and a wild look has replaced the sad one from before.

I lean in close, teasing him slightly, allowing myself to momentarily forget what has led to this. My breath sticks to the sweat on his face and he lets out a soft groan in anticipation. I inch closer, my hands gripping the ends of his shirt tightly. With each movement I squeeze the fabric tighter, bunching it into my fists. The shirt rises with every movement too, revealing soft, bronze skin beneath it that glistens in the moonlight.

Soon, I can take the waiting no longer and plunge my face forwards to his. For a moment, I am afraid we will collide with utter ungracefulness, but his hands release the ground and find my waist, bringing my body closer to his. My lips crash against his in a frenzy. His lips have broken and chapped, he has chewed on them. But I smooth them over with my tongue, which glazes along in a perfect rhythm.

He opens his mouth now and I move my hands underneath his shirt, trailing along tight muscle. His tongue battles with mine and I can feel him shuffling underneath me, trying to angle us perfectly.

I moan when my shirt rides up and his hands, warm and calloused, spread along my back, up my spine. Suddenly, he his yanking my shirt up, but he gets no where as my arms are wrapped around his back. My thoughts jumble together, but I manage to remove my hands and lift my arms up. Alex pulls the t-shirt above my head, revealing my pale, moly front. It is nothing new to him, but I still get a twinge of nervousness clawing in my belly.

We are no longer kissing as the movement to remove my shirt forced us to stop. He stares at me now, glazing over every inch of skin like he is memorizing the pattern of marks. He traces them lightly with his fingertips as if playing connect-the-dots. I realize I must look like a mess. Hot, sweaty, and tangled. My hair has come loose from its ponytail and hangs in matted knots around my shoulders. The skin on my face is oily and dirt-ridden. Dried blood stains my hands and legs.

But he looks at me as if I, Lena Holloway, were Aphrodite. His eyes look in wonder at my half-naked body and I blush under his tentative gaze. He looks at my face now, moving his fingers along my stomach, over my bra, along my collarbone, across my neck, and around my face. He grabs at my jaw and brings me closer to kiss me.

Once again we are a frantic mess of bodies. He pulls me so close to him, I swear we are about meld into one. His body is warm and relaxing against mine to the point I almost _want_ to melt and become one.

I feel his hands grappling with the hook of my bra and a wild thought shoots my brain. A memory of my Aunt Carol telling me about the expectations of husband and wife. How a husband and wife consummate their marriage, she said. She explained it as if it was a detriment. Something that should be despised. But she also said it was necessary. For children.

I freeze for a moment, worried all of a sudden that this will be a terrible experience. The health teachers described it as loosely as they possible could, "It is painful, usually short, and unfulfilling." It is only for children. It hurts. It is shameful. God will look down upon you with despair in his eyes.

And then I notice Alex's lips are no longer on my own. His preoccupation removing his own shirt tearing him away from me. The silent air creeps around us and he stops, pulling his shirt back down. His eyes are golden in the moonlight and they look feral. I imagine a stray cat sitting before me instead of this boy who has run away with me. This boy who loves me. He stares at me, a confused look slowly spreading across his features.

He is handsome. Right here and now. Under the blanket of night, the stars not visible through the cursed clouds, he is handsome. Even with blood trickling through his shirt from a small wound on his chest, even with dust melding with the pores in his skin, even with death hanging over him like the sun.

So I smile. And he smiles back. Slowly, carefully. He is treading lightly and I love him for it.

I lean forward, forgetting Aunt Carol and teachers, and even myself. My hands grab the ends of his shirt and I help lift the shirt off his body. I take my time to look at him the way he looked at me. The way he always look at me. Like he is studying a work of art. I place a hand on the wound, cleaning away the blood with my thumb. He doesn't flinch beneath my touch, so I spread my hand around his bare chest, adding my other hand for good measure. I place a concentrated look on my face, trying to lock away the feel of his warm skin against my own.

I can almost hear the smile playing on his lips and glance at his eyes. He pulls me closer, resting his hands on my back. I stop breathing and he kisses me. My eyes flutter close.

Once we get into a rhythm again, I allow him to wrestle with my bra grip. His hands are strong against my back and his lips haven't left mine again as he finally unhooks it. He raises his fingers to my shoulders and guides the straps off of my arms. I am tentative to allow him at first, but then his tongue shoots over mine and I am too confused to care about any of it. Once it is discarded and thrust against our shirts, his hands graze the two mounds.

His touch is graceful and light. He squeezes lightly against my right breast and I pant softly into his mouth. An unknown feeling shoots through me and lands at my core, making it throb with pleasure and desire.

My hands move against my wishes, fiddling with the belt that holds Alex's trousers up. I barely know what I am doing when I eventually get the strap loose. I yank it hard and toss it somewhere. I hear Alex gasp against my lips and then he stops kissing me. Well, stops kissing my lips. He pushes me back, resting me against our forgotten shirts and begins pressing kisses to my neck all the way to my breasts.

I can't stop the sigh of pleasure that escapes my mouth. His lips graze across tender bumps and my hands once again are at his trousers, struggling now with the button. It doesn't take long for the button to relinquish itself and, with the hand that is not laced around my left shoulder, Alex leans up and pulls the shorts down. Underclothes replace their presence, but Alex is too focused on now removing my pants. The button pops open and he pulls down hard. My underwear follows the tight jeans, leaving me no time to be nervous.

With his right hand, he feels up my leg and lands at the crook between my thighs. Alex mouth has found mine again, but my scream of love and fervor forces his lips off. He moves his head to my neck and I can feel him laugh against my skin. I smile, too, lost in the drug that is Alex.

I move my hands again to his boxers. Before I am even aware what I am doing, my fingertips slip inside the waistband at the front. Alex stops moving and I'm worried for a split second that I have done something wrong, but then he moans. I continue what I am doing until he finds my hand and stops me, guiding my fingers and helping me remove the boxer-shorts.

I feel a pressure at the base of my stomach. Something is pressing against me. Something is forcing its way inside of me. Alex looks at me, an anxious expression painted on his face. I make my eyes stare at him and a breath hitches in my throat. His body is rippling with surges of want. I close my eyes to keep from crying out of pure happiness and nod my head once.

Then I really feel the pressure. It builds from my stomach all the way through my veins like adrenaline. It touches my fingertips, the tips of my toes; it blockades my brain. It is painful at first and I squeeze my eyes shut, but the pain subsides quickly and is replaced by a pleasure I have never felt in my life.

I open my eyes and look at Alex.

He smiles a great smile and I realise that Aunt Carol and the teachers were wrong. They may have hated this, but it was because there was no zeal. No tenderness. No _love. _

My body is pulsating with it. The _deliria. _It is wracking my bones, clouding my mind. I said long ago (or maybe not that long ago, time seems to have lost all meaning at this moment in time) that this would kill me. It was going to kill me and I didn't care. Back then, I didn't know what was going to happen. I was just beginning to experience the disease. But now, in the warmth of Alex's fingertips grazing against me, his body a part of my own, I would happily die here. Happy, adored…and loved.


	2. Hell on the Throat

**A/N: **Chapter two: Hell on the Throat. I do plan on continuing this. It won't be terribly long, but it shouldn't be too short either. I know Lauren Oliver doesn't believe in happy endings, but I do. Well, not really, but I don't think you can make people fall in love with characters without giving them a full story. We, as readers, need to know. I am no Lauren Oliver, but I will try my best. And I cannot find my copy of Delirium. I lent it to my sister before she left on vacation to Ireland, so I may never see it again. I am unsure of whether or not Alex and Lena have actually discussed the real Bible before, but let's just take artistic license into full effect here. They have never talked about it, and Lena does not know what it is. There. Read and Review, and most importantly, please enjoy.

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_Hell on the Throat_

One last tug, one last push. My breath catches halfway out of my mouth. A tingling starts in my toes and causes my body to convulse upwards. The feeling spreads throughout my body, fuzzing my brain even more. I fling my arms around Alex's neck to steady myself as his hands grip the discarded clothing beneath us. He groans into my neck and shivers, pressing his lips against mine one more time before collapsing.

The motion brings me down as well, but I am too hazed to register the feeling of the fabric underneath my back. All I feel is Alex, sweaty on top of me. He pants in my ear and it gives me a warm feeling. I expect to feel different in some way, but aside from a throbbing between my thighs, which is not entirely unwelcome, I am the same girl. God did not smite me and Alex has yet to run.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice thick and throaty as if he needs to cough. I pull hard on his back, bringing him closer to me. He slowly lowers himself down, pressing his entire weight against me. Our chests meet and I do not mind the uncomfortable feeling of pressure against my breasts.

Alex ruffles a bit above me, fiddling his hands behind my back. He grabs my sides roughly and twists us around so I am now on top of him. He smiles up at me, childishly.

"I love you too, by the way," I mumble into the air, looking down at him. I begin to move my right hand through his hair, gliding over the sticky caramel until I reveal his forehead in full. It glistens with the light sheen of satisfied sweat.

"Good," he replies, cupping my face gently. Silence spreads across us like a blanket. It is not awkward. Not scared. Not forced or angry. It is happy and content.

Through the silence I am able to think. I try to push away thoughts of family and of Hana and focus plainly on the young man whom I love. _So that was sex_, I try to casually think. I force the words out even in my mind, though. Old habits die hard. And then my mind wanders, _what would Hana say to me? Would she scold me? Or hug me? _

And then a darker thought, _Would she turn me in? Turn _us_ in?_

_No, don't be stupid. She loves you and loves you with Alex. And besides, _I think more sorrowfully, _she isn't here to discuss it with me._

Alex must notice my somber expression because he leans up and kisses me. Not on the lips, but on the cheek. It is his sign that he is there. He did it when we would be locked up in 37 Brooks Street. He never said anything when my eyes got glossy, but he would kiss my cheek softly and bring me back to him. Now he does it to reassure me, to tell me with no words that this was not a mistake. We have made our decision and it is final.

"We should probably get dressed. Or at least find a stream to bathe in," he says after the long period of silence. I stare at him, a grunt escaping from my lips in protest. My eyebrows furrow in mock disgust and I cross my arms best I can across my chest. He laughs then, a hearty laugh that forces me out of my pretend sorrow. "Come on," he says as I roll off of him. He sits up, stretching, allowing his muscles to become taut.

"Are you flirting with me?" I tease, staring at his arms as they bulge with strength.

"You still don't know what flirting is," he whispers, shaking his head as he leans in again to kiss me. My belly bubbles at the feeling and he brings me closer to him, gathering my hair in one hand and holding my waist with the other.

I am the first to break the kiss. "We need to find water," I say, standing up. I brush crushed leaves off of my sticky body and realise that I am perfectly okay with being naked in the wilderness with Alex at my side. I refuse, absolutely and stubbornly refuse, to allow any thoughts that don't have to do with Alex in my head. It reminds me of a song I heard playing once when I was with Alex. It was not on the Approved list of songs and it moved me in ways none of the actual Approved ones could. "I don't care what you think as long as it's about me." He explained to me that the hidden message behind the song was that the generation before was so obsessed with themselves that people tended not to mind what was being spread about them, as long as it mentioned their name.

Right now, I don't care what Alex is thinking, I just hope it's about me.

"You're okay walking around like Adam and Eve?" He asks quietly, disturbing the silence. My face must contort someway because he laughs and adds, "You don't know who Adam and Eve were?" Anyone else would make that statement sound like an insult, but Alex's voice smooths over the words and I know he isn't trying to make me seem stupid.

"Who were they?" I respond, standing still.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure if they were real. The Bible seems to think they were, though," he stares at me again in silence. "Don't tell me you also don't know what the Bible is," he laughs again silently, allowing shivers to convulse his body. I shake my head no.

"My dear Magdalena," I melt in place at the way he says my name. He moves over to me, lowering his voice even more into what I assume is meant to be a seductive whisper. It works. "The Bible is this thing written thousands of years ago telling stories of this great man called God, his son Jesus, and their friend The Holy Ghost. The Holy Trinity," he laughs humorlessly, gripping my bare waist. Moisture forms again at the base of my stomach. "Adam and Eve were the first people on this earth created by God to be his people. They walked around like we do now," he gestures his head around us in an overtly enthusiastic way, swiveling until he looks down at me again. "Naked."

My face blushes at the word, but I understand now. We are like the first humans. Walking around the wilderness with no clothes.

"I'll tell you more about them later," he whispers in my ear, leaning his head down to kiss my throat. I close my eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck. "No, no, honey, you want the water so we're getting the water." He smirks at me, becoming his full height once more.

It does not take long to find a stream. It is cold. So very cold. But we bathe in it anyway, ridding our bodies of the dirt and sweat built up from running.

I do not know how far away we are from Portland and I begin to open my mouth in question of our whereabouts, but Alex cuts me off, "Far enough." He says, returning to cleaning himself up.

How he knew what I was going to ask is no mystery. I am a fragile piece of glass he has taken with him and he knows I will be able to cut him deeper than anything else out here. The harshness of his words reverberate around in my head, spinning like tape collecting dust.

Once we finish ridding ourselves of the remnants our activity left on our skin, we return to our clothes. They feel warm against our cooled skin and when we lie down to rest, our bodies entwine in a way I know will keep us warm throughout our nap.

I thought it would be difficult to get to sleep, but the moment my head hits Alex's chest, I drift off into a dream state so vivid I wake up worrying that Alex is not with me and that I am still in my bed strapped like a prisoner.

My body pushes itself into a sitting position and I hold back the scream threatening to rise in my throat. I feel something hit my skin. It is light, but cold. It happens again. And three more times before my sleepy mind registers what it is: "Rain." I whisper.

A few more drops hit me and I can tell that soon it will be pouring. I turn around, looking for my Alex. He is where he was when we fell asleep. He has turned around, his back facing me. I sit there for a moment, watching him in slumber.

His back moves as he breathes and I can see his face. It is the most relaxed face I have ever laid eyes on. He looks like he is ten. Not nineteen. I love him.

But then I can feel the rain pick up and I know we must move to find shelter. I shake him, but he does not move. Shock shoots through me and for a stupid second, I am frightened that he is dead. But I still see him move with breaths, so I shake harder, whispering his name.

When he wakes, his eyes flash open and before I can blink he is standing alert and ready to attack. My heart thuds and I stare blankly at him. When he realises there is no danger, he looks down, his face softening by a million degrees. He kneels down to my level and smiles.

"Rain." I say again, pointing to the sky. He looks up, stupidly. Water catches in his eyes and he blinks, rubbing the pain away.

"We better get a move on, Eve." He says, holding out his hand. I don't do it at first, I just stare at him.

"What?" He asks but I don't reply. I simply get up and take his hand. He called me Eve. And I think that right now we can pretend to be the first humans. Alone and together.

We move quickly through the woods and I hope Alex knows where he is going. He must do. The rain has begun to fall heavily and it blinds us to much of our surroundings, adding to my worries. But with Alex's hand in mine, I trust and move with him.

The air has begun to get thick with the humidity of late summer. The sun peaks through the rain, splashing against our skin. I can't help but laugh at how Romantic this is. Running with your lover through the wilderness, escaping a tortured world together through the muddy, wet ground. I imagine one of Alex's poetry books to be full of scenes like this.

Upon hearing my gurgle of happiness, Alex turns around. I almost can't see him through the haze of rain, but he stands out against the beating sun, shining like a diamond. My hand leaves his and I can just about see his face turn in confusion. I quickly step in front of him and guide my mouth over his. I hit his chin with my lips and try not to laugh at my miss. He smiles against my forehead and brings his lips correctly on top of mine.

"We're almost there," he says when we break apart. My heart skids forward at his words and we quickly fall back into a good pace. The ground squelches beneath our feet and our hands make odd noises when one of us squeezes, but we march on like soldiers. And then, all of a sudden, the rain, as if controlled by a switch, stops. We two are startled into ceasing our movements. Alex looks at me, drenched in water. My teenager, rebellious mind goes to how his muscles are outlined through the fabric of his wet tee-shirt and I can't help but lick my lips in a hopefully seductive manner. He grins at me, the childish glint in his eyes returning slowly.

And then we hear a noise. A voice calling out to us from the distance. It rumbles in the silence, rocketing off stones and trees, circling us in a web of chants. Alex steps closer to me, gripping my shoulders as he stands against my back. I try and move. I want to face him. My mind rushes with a thousand things. I am going to die right here. I couldn't escape from them. Not really. I can't escape now. I love you.

But he doesn't let me face him. He holds me steady and whispers in my ear, "Shh." I hear so much more than the sound. I hear be quiet, be calm, I love you too, and we will survive.

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**A/N 2: **Okay, so that's chapter 2. It's not really going to be a M rated story, by the way. Some scenes will require the rating, but others will not. Most will not. The chapter is named after a Dashboard Confessional song. It's a good, sad song. Listen to it and imagine being Alex. Alex, the wilderness survivor who fell in love with a girl too controlled by society to know what love really is. Thanks for reading. I assume you did read it if you're scanning this little thing.

Your's truly,

(insert name here)


	3. She Had The World

**A/N**: Haha! I strike again with Chapter Trois! And for those of you who do not know how to count or for those who do not know simple French (not judging, just clarifying; promise), trois means three. So, Chapter Three. I want to thank everyone who has read this story. 80 something is pretty good for a book not many people seem to know exists. And thank you to swidler for your review. It means a lot and I'm sorry I didn't get around to personally thanking you, but here you go. For the world to see. Or for eighty pairs of eyes to see. Thank you, really. And I guess we'll have to wait and find out what happens to Lena. You and me both. Kind of. Because I already know the answer to your question, even though it wasn't so much a question as a thought you typed out. But then this entire story is just my thoughts typed out. Ah well. Thank you all (again) and please, above anything, above reviewing and reading and favouriting and following, please ENJOY!

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_She Had the World_

"Who goes there?" A man, thick and burly, steps through the trees a gun jutting out from his loose-fitting jeans. My shoulders will have marks from where Alex is digging his fingernails in. I desperately want to see his face, to ask for reassurance, but he holds me in place. His breath comes out lightly, dancing on the wind before being carried away through the whistling trees. I listen to it now and try to calm myself.

"I asked 'who goes there'?" The man speaks again, his voice drawling with southern blood. His skin glows a dark ebony, wet from the same rain Alex and I experienced just moments before. It feels like days ago. The mans eyes are dark, but shine in the sudden onset of sunlight. I know fear should riddle my bones, but a thrill, so new and unfamiliar, courses through me.

What I find amazing in this moment is Alex. Time seems to stand still as I feel his heartbeat speed up. But I can sense that on the outside, he looks calm. It's like the night of that fateful raid, when he bandaged up my leg and kissed me for the first time. His voice and his movements were swift and planned, but I could hear his heartbeat through his chest betraying his calm exterior.

Now, the life-giving thing pumps against my back, connecting me more to the young man behind me, allowing me to see deeper into this stone faced creature. I reach my hand around his waist as the man walks slowly towards us. I grapple slightly, but find his hand and squeeze.

"Hands where I can see them!" The man yells at us. He approaches us now, quickly, pulling his gun out. Before my mind connects with my feet, Alex has pulled me behind him, grabbing onto my hips from in front me. I hear a click, loud against the silence. A branch cracks in the distance and I whip my head around, searching blindly for the source.

"Stay back," I have never heard Alex's voice so full of venom that I almost don't believe it was him who talked. And yet I feel his skin vibrate with his voice.

"Names, then," the man takes another footfall towards us. Alex digs into me, his hand gripping me so firmly I want to giggle and complain that it hurts at the same time. I stare at the gun from behind Alex's back, hiding like a scared child peaking a head around their mother's waist to get a better look at the strange object in front of them. Guns are unfamiliar to me. They fascinate me. And then I remember when that dog was shot. How it lay in the night, panting as its life came to an end.

I choke back bile and stare at the man instead. Lines crease his face, forcing him to appear older than I actually believe him to be. His eyes are dark, nearly black in the glaring sun. I cannot tell the sweat from the water as liquid drips from his bushy eyebrows. Harmless. This man is harmless.

Reckless. I am reckless.

"Alex and Lena." I step forward easily, Alex too startled by my movements to stop me. He grabs my arm roughly after his moment of confusion passes, but I yank free and glare at him. He glares back.

"Alex and Lena. Where're you two comin' from?" He looks down at me, frowning like I imagine Alex is right now, behind my back. His stare burns into me and I imagine eye shaped scars on the skin underneath my shirt.

"Portland. Where are we?" My hands automatically go to my hips as if some animalistic pride has taken over. I stand defiantly. I am Lena, a survivor.

"How'd you find this place?"

"I don't even know where this place is. Where are we?" My voice gurgles and I try to imitate Alex's voice from before, when he scared me. I worry that this is ruining me for Alex. But he hasn't stopped me from speaking.

"New Mexico. Not entirely sure where, though," the man's face softens and years wash away from his features like water.

"New Mexico?" It's a rhetorical question.

"New Mexico." He affirms.

I try and recover. I swallow and blink a thousand times and look anywhere but down. The sun hurts everything. It is as if I am only noticing now how incredibly tired I am. Like running through however many states it takes to get from the north to the south isn't really all that difficult. But it is. And all I want is a bed.

My memory blanks after this. I catch the man's name, Charles, and then I am following him to the campsite. He shows us a trailer that no one is using and says to make ourselves comfortable. We will talk with the "woman in charge" tomorrow to figure out a more permanent solution to our traveling woes. If there is one.

Alex does not touch me until we crawl into the tiny bed in the tiny trailer and even then the contact is accidental and forced.

* * *

"Lena," I hear my voice, but my feet refuse to stop their quick movements. Trees scrape my arms and legs, slicing deep into my fragile flesh. Blood bubbles, spilling over like a waterfall. I stop to catch my breath. I notice a shadow blowing past, cackling. "Lena!" It calls again, a low rumble of a voice. The noise jerks me into motion once more.

The sky turns black with terror, screaming and wailing with wind. It rushes through the trees, calling after me as I run. Something trips me and I fly into the dried leaves of golden autumn. My name echoes through the woods, taunting me with its malicious laughter.

"Lena. Lena. Lena."

And then the darkness surrounds me, engulfing me in its inescapable grasp, choking me from the inside out. Hands grip my sides, holding me tightly, aiding in the slow suffocation.

"Lena," the voice is riddled with worry now, no longer harsh but tired and groggy. Slowly, I register light filtering through a slitted plastic wall and push myself up, rubbing at my eyes. A sob engulfs me and the hands leave my body momentarily, finding a new position at my shoulders.

_Alex_.

Relief floods my brain. Everything goes out of focus except for the warm heat radiating from the fingers loosely holding onto me. I bury my head in my hands and eventually calm myself down.

Alex's fingers spread across my sweaty back, lifting my shirt up to better acquire a feel of my skin. I succumb to the relaxing motions, listening lightly to soft words of love spilling from his lips. I lift my head and wipe my eyes, willing myself to shut up because this is not the time nor the place to have a meltdown. Silence buries itself deep in the core of this safe house and I need to accommodate.

A light kiss on my neck spreads warmth throughout the entirety of my body, awakening a flame in my chest. I turn now to look at the boy patient enough to lie with me through my nightmares. The moonlight glimmers off of his skin and I can see his anxious-ridden expression as it scrunches his features.

"I'm okay," I say quietly, bowing my head. He fits a hand underneath my jaw, lifting my head with ease using his thumb. He smiles the smile that I fell in love with, leaning in to kiss me lightly on the corner of my mouth. I think, _this is the first time you have touched me in weeks._

We fall asleep again. Or maybe it's just me and Alex stays awake, thinking like the hundred-year-old he stuck in his brain. But either way, I don't stir until a light kiss burns my temple and I catch the faint glimpse of my only friend abandoning me for work.

Because that was their rule. "You can stay here if you can work." So we work. And we work hard. And in different places. I never see him during the day and when he gets home, always after I do, his body aches and his mind hurts too much to register my existence aside from a shoulder tap and a whisper of "I'm going to sleep."

I try hard to make sure this doesn't get in my head, but I don't think he understands how much it hurts to be ignored by the only person I need right now. He left his family a long time ago. This is new to me. I want to be brave and prove to him that I am strong, but I am not. I simply am not. And I hate it. I never needed bravery and strength back in Portland. I believed everything that was said to me. I believed that life gave you nothing in return for all you gave to it and I believed that falling in love would kill me.

I'm still young, though, I suppose. I've got time to die yet.

These thoughts wake me up and I swing my legs over the bed and allow them to touch the rough, plastic floor of the stationary RV we've taken over. The space reigns small. Room extends itself to fit about three people if those three people do not mind being squished and there is one toilet. It flushes only due to the kind and hardworking man I share a bed with. Although I find myself wishing to call him a child more and more these days.

Weariness bores my bones most mornings and this one is no exception. I open the door with a raggedy towel and a change of clothes in my arms. The ground crackles beneath my light footsteps and I spot a few children playing with a dog. It barks and the sound startles me. I graze my eyes over in the direction where I know Alex is working and attempt to push him from my thoughts. Very unsuccessfully.

The water that I splash over myself from the creek nearby our campsite chills me in the late September air. The leaves have started to change colour and my birthday has long passed. They say birthday's aren't as important here, but they were never important back home.

Except September 3rd was my eighteenth birthday. When I was supposed to be lying on a cold, metal slab, needles and knives sticking into my brain. When I was supposed to be cured. That thought makes me want to throw up, but I hold myself down and tell myself to breathe. Alex didn't say anything, so I can only assume it doesn't matter. Which stings, because it does.

I hear someone approaching me from behind and I twist my head around quickly. It's Molly, the "mama" of this camp. She runs the place, built it up from the ground. Her hair sparks grey in more places than not and her skin sags in certain areas, but her eyes, a vibrant green, hold young life.

"Hello, dear," her voice comes out soft, but I hear her screams and shouts bursting into the night sometimes as she chastises one of the workers. I have decided to try to keep on her good side.

"Hi, Molly," I stand up, wiping the crumpled leaves off of my too big jeans. Clothes come from the Insiders in random and odd intervals, meaning there were no clothes that fit me when we came and their may not be anything for a while because summer decided to leave early. Though Molly has told me that down here, summer never truly abandons us. I never travelled outside of Portland except for when Alex and I went to his part of the Wilds and geography was never my strong suit in school, so I trust the southern native.

"Nice day out, don't ya think?" Her southern drawl fascinates me. Hers is the thickest out here. Well, from the minimal amount of people I've talked to, I can assume hers is the strongest.

I nod my head in response to her question and she holds out her arm for me to take. I oblige and she leads me to the abandoned church that stands as our "home base." During the Blitz, Molly told me, the government bombed everything. Fire stretched for miles, and in a place as dry and barren as New Mexico, it was difficult to find shelter from the raging planes. Molly ran from Alabama, having grown up in the wilds over there. She was thirty-something. She had a stint in the "Real World" like Alex, playing the role of an English teacher. But when her home, her true home, blew to smithereens, she decided to leave permanently.

Her feet took her here. After the fires died down, she found this place. Trees spread out for miles, except right smack dab in the center. And there was a church. It was old, already old. But now it was torn apart. So she recruited some people and they started this lodge up.

The church was made of stone. Some stones were wobbly and most were not put in properly due to it being reconstructed by not construction workers, but it did well enough to accommodate people. Nobody complained, at least.

Molly took me to the back, passed what was once the Sanctuary to where I was stationed. She leaned in to kiss my cheek as she left and I told myself not to pull away. It felt comforting if I ignored the uncomfortable ringing in my ears.

A grey wave covered the day as I began my job cooking. That was my assignment. Cooking. It never suited me back in Portland, but here, I seem to do well. Not like we can really cook much anyway, so what am I going to screw up? Molly says that people here don't care about cuisine so much as staying alive.

Today's menu: meat from three fat hares getting ready for their never-coming hibernation. Fit to feed the thirty-three people in this area. Sort of.

As I skin the hares, the other kitchen-worker, Michael, starts a fire using only flint and steel. I'm still not entirely used to the co-gender environment. I flinch whenever a male walks over to me, passed me, or with me. I want to scream when their skin comes into contact with mine. Alex giggles about it, but I find nothing funny in it. It means that my old life still has pull on me. I don't need it with me, my past, but it rides my back for everyone to see. I'm out of place. I left to find my place with Alex and here we are, him falling into step with these people like he's known them his whole entire life, and I am here, skinning a bloody rabbit and scared that Michael will try and strike up conversation just as he strikes the flint and steel into a blazing fire.

The hare's soft flesh feels cool and squishy and appetizing. It took less time than I realised to tell my stomach it needed to shut up and take the fact that real food was scarce. And I liked hares, also more than I ever thought I could. They like it here, hares. New Mexico seems to attract them, probably because of its dry heat and not too harsh winters.

I force myself to walk towards Michael at the "stove" in order to begin frying the squares of meat for lunch and dinner. I don't look at him, although I know exactly what he looks like: blonde hair shagging over a scarred forehead from a burn given by a regulator on his escape, blue eyes the same colour of sickly hospital walls, and stubble from lack of razor privileges due to threatening another person recently with one. I wasn't so much scared of him, although I would not like him and his big arms to come at me with a sharp object, as I was of his gender. It is so different from mine.

And I know because of what Alex and I did that night we escaped. Or however long after we escaped. Days or weeks after. I know we were running fast, but it takes longer than a night to run from Oregon to New Mexico and I know it. It makes it more difficult to look and speak to a man knowing what lay beneath the layers of clothing.

"Smells nice," he says, his accent drooling over his words. His teeth are shiny and I wonder how they stay that way. But it's not like Alex and I are the only one's they allowed to have toothbrushes and toothpaste. "Where's that boy o' yours?" He asks. And I would tell him, maybe, if I knew. Alex speaks not of his work. I know he helps the other men eligible here in their scavenging. Molly told me he's one of the people who goes and checks on the "DELIVERY TREES" deep in the forest, near the border. I decided after that, I didn't mind that Alex refused to clue me in about it.

"Guess you don't know?" It's a rhetorical question because he thinks I do know, I'm just too afraid to talk. Which is only half true. I chance a look at him and see his half-smile looming over me.

"Ye-ah, ye-ah," I say, stumbling over the one syllable word not once, but twice. Michael laughs and grabs at the spatula I have glued in my hands. I release it out of shock and watch, mouth slightly agape, as he slides it over and under the meat, allowing all the chunks to simmer equally.

A noise at the kitchen door startles my frozen body to life and I see the boy I fell in love with walking, bloody and weary, towards the sink. I freeze again, but only momentarily, and then approach him hesitantly.

"What happened?" My voice is smaller than I would have liked, but the words are out and I can't take them back. He looks at me, squarely in the eye, and says nothing.

Childish anger takes over and I spin around on my heels, stomping my way out of the door. I hear Michael's crackley voice, "back off her man," but it sounds distant and broken through the blood rushing in my ears. I take off running, something I haven't done since arriving.

My legs burn with laziness, angrily telling me they don't want to be used like this, but I ignore the pain just once more before I decide it is safe to snap.

When I, literally, stumble upon a patch of clear grass, I scream. I know I am far enough away from both the "Real World" and the campsite to not be heard, so I just scream and scream and scream until my voice breaks and I thirst for water.

I slam myself to the ground and flail my arms up and down, smacking the soft dirt repeatedly until satisfaction spreads through my body. I sit up, looking around.

The sun glows against the cloudy sky, trying to break free. I stare at it long enough that when I close my eyes, I see the yellow and green silhouette of the invisible energy ball.

And then I cry. Tears come fast and heavy. They trickle down my face and onto the grass which seemingly goes on for miles. Maybe I'll literally cry myself a river and float away. Away from this hurt and pain of abandonment. Away from Alex. Away from my potentially alive mother. Even further away from Hana.

Because I miss home. Not "home" as in Portland. But I miss the security of the word home. I have no home. And now that I think about it, I never have. Home was always just a word attributed to the place I lived in. It changed once when I was child and now it has changed another time. And I know it will keep changing. Home is not a place. It is a word. A word that flies with the wind. I need a home now. Whether it is an actual house with four walls, a roof, and a door; or whether it is with Alex, my only comfort in this damaged world who also refuses to speak in my direction.

Stubbornly, I want to stay in this field. I imagine myself riding one those horses I heard about as a kid through this field, feeling free and alive. Alex with me, trusting me, loving me. But I get up and walk in the direction that is "home." Molly told me, "If you ever want to go for some space (she meant from the overwhelming unfamiliarity of this place) promise me you'll go in a straight line." I promised and now I walk back in a straight line, taking my sweet time, praying that Alex is torn up about ignoring me and currently going over ways to apologise.

I skip lunch and then I skip dinner. He was not waiting for me at our trailer, as I suspected, and I will not be the first to break this silence. I'm not hungry. I feel sick. I feel alone and sick and tired. All the goddamned time. It's as if those are the only things I brought with me from Oregon. Sickness, weariness, and loneliness.

"The Police." I speak to the open air, remembering. "Seems I'm never lonely being alone." I could use a message in a bottle right about now, proving that I am not, in fact, alone. Because I sure as hell am lonely.

I drift off slowly, thinking of that song and what it means to not be lonely even though you are alone, and dream strange dreams full of happiness and laughter.

_Sick._

_Sick._

_Sick._

I wake up in a flash, my stomach clenching. Alex is sitting at the little table, head bowed over his arms asleep. He is none of my concern, though, as I kick the covers off of myself.

I am drenched in sweat.

My stomach churns.

Lights dance in my vision.

I am sick.

I am dying.

* * *

**A/N 2: **I realise that the three chapters I have posted have been left at cliffhangers. And I apologise. I hate them myself, but writing them is so much more fun. Maybe I'm one of those people who likes to torture readers.

So I'm going to be putting the bits about the songs down here because I feel that if people don't care about music (YOU SHOULD!) then they are going to be turned off by it at the beginning. So down here it goes. I was torn between two titles for this chapter: "She Had the World" and "Englishman in New York." You guys know which one I decided on and now know that I am a Police/Sting fan. The Police, for example, wrote and performed "Message in a Bottle" (I hope you knew that already, though. It was, like, their most famous song) which I referenced to help in my description of poor Lena's lonely mind, and "Englishman in New York" is a Sting song. It's actually fascinating how he got the nickname Sting, but I'll let you look that up if you're interested. "She Had the World" was chosen for two reasons: 1, the song goes along well with what Lena is feeling. She seemingly has the world she wants, but doesn't have the thing she needs in order to keep that world together. (My favourite line(s) from that song is "But that girl had so much love/ she'd wanna kiss you all the time/ yeah she'd wanna kiss you all the time/ she said she'd won the world/ at a carnival/ but I'm sure I didn't ruin her/ I just made her more interesting. I imagine Alex feels like that. Lena has so much love to give him, but he's afraid that this world, his world, is ruining her. Because if you listen to the song, you'll hear the narrator is trying to convince himself that he didn't ruin her, even though he's sure he did.) And reason Number 2 is that I am seeing Panic! at the Disco (the dudes whose song that is) when they open for Fall Out Boy (my favourite "modern day" band) on Tuesday and feel I should pay them a homage. Try and figure out why I also thought "Englishman in New York" would work. Write to me about it. About your philosophies on the songs I choose. Why you think I chose them and maybe ones that I could have chosen. I'm all in for learning new artists.

This went on for a lot longer than I thought it would. Can you tell that I don't really have friends? But then who needs 'em when you've got a bunch of faceless usernames reading your stuff.

Thank you all one more time for reading and reviewing and whatnot. It means the world to me that my writing is getting recognized, even if it isn't liked. Enjoy the music project thingy I've given. Seriously, I love hearing about music and what people think about it. **_Tell me what you think! _**

Yours truly,

(insert name here)


	4. The Guilty Ones

**A/N**: So...wow. It's been a while. And I feel bad. But, let it be noted that this is an incredibly long chapter and I...yeah, I'm not going to make excuses. I had writers block which was fueled by my scary American Lit. teacher. But it seems to be slowly lifting now. I have plans for this baby and I have about three new ideas for other stories. Man, I love Fan Fiction and its openness to my creepy obsession with fictional characters.

I said a couple chapters ago that I wasn't going to make this a really M rated thing. And it's still not overly graphic and vulgar, but there is a little bit of sexiness in here. Okay, more than a little bit. I'm just tired of trying make these characters unhappy. Lauren Oliver can keep them all sad and depressing, but I want them to be together and happy.

So, without further adieu, here is Chapter 4. If you feel up for a review, go ahead. I don't crave them, but they do make me happy. I actually squealed the four times I got an email saying someone reviewed. Basically, thank you so much to everyone has read this and especially thanks to the four wonderful people who reviewed. It gives me the inspiration to write, knowing that people are waiting for what happens next. I have so much power here it's kind of scary...

Above everything and anything, including reviewing and whatnot, please just _enjoy_ this story. If you don't, I'm so terribly sorry for wasting your time. But if you do, then thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. ENJOY!

* * *

_**The Guilty** **Ones**_

Feet find the door in the dark, shuffling along. I slam the it open and jump the steps, hearing as it smacks the side of the trailer. Alex must have heard it because I faintly register the sound of someone following me. I take two steps, just two, before the feeling takes me up in its grasp.

I bend over and vomit. It doesn't help the first time, so I do it again and again and again until I can stand straight and when colours no longer flash when I blink, I turn around. Alex has his eyes trained on me. I see them quiver in the dark moonlight that seeps through the clouds as they motion over my body entirely as if he is just seeing me now for the first time.

His foot moves forward and it snaps a twig. He freezes and waits for someone to come rushing out. When no one does, he runs for me, but stops two yards from reaching where I stand shaking.

"Lena," his voice is hoarse and I cock my head to the side, looking at him through tired eyes. He looks different. Paler and less alive. There is no longer a perpetual smile on his lips. No, they bend down now in a frown. Those lips weren't meant for that. He ruffles a hand through his wavy hair and I watch it cascade down across his forehead.

"You need a haircut," I croak out. My mouth tastes acidic and I desperately need water. His eyes light up for a moment before falling once more into their dark, depressive state.

"Yeah, I guess I do," he takes those few steps he needs to reach me and holds out a hand. It shakes in the dark and I can tell that he is nervous. Not boyish nervous, not like when he kissed me for the first time or the second time or the third time, but a nervous I do not recognise. "What-" he breaks, eyeing the glowing liquid I so graciously placed on the ground.

"I think I'm sick," my voice breaks and I didn't realise before how scared that makes me. I can't be sick. Not out here. Not here where there is nothing to make me well. Alex must see my face fall because he puts his hand on my cheek and rubs underneath my eye. The contact is welcome and warm. I missed it. His skin feels rougher, but still somehow smooth. Maybe that's the illness talking.

"No, don't say that. You probably just ate something," he tries to smile, but his eyes stay hollow. I don't like this. Shapes are slowly being distorted around my eyes and I close them to regain my thoughts.

"I haven't eaten anything," I look at the ground, trying to force myself to remain calm. My stomach gurgles and I fear throwing up again, so I turn around and clutch my knees, bowing my head. A light touch on my back soothes my twisting nerves. It makes slow, intricate circles over a notch of my spine, going over and over and over it like its trying to memorise the bump.

I dislike the touch. It's uncomfortable after a minute.

My skin is slowly losing it's cells, being rubbed against my shirt time and time again. _He _is touching me like it's fine. Like this happens to us all time. Like he runs to me when I'm down and lifts me back up.

So I stand up properly. I fight dizziness and turn to face him, fire burning in my eyes.

_Don't cry, Lena_, I tell myself. _Look tough._

"Are you oka-"

"Yes." I snap, my voice betraying me horribly by wavering.

His golden eyes burn through me and his knowing look vanishes. A stranger once again, I walk past him and into "our" home. But it's not a home. A home is where you feel safe and protected and…well…loved. I grab my toothbrush and begin to vigorously remove the acidic taste from my mouth.

"What's going on, Lena?" I didn't hear him come inside the trailer, so I jump when his voice creeps towards me. It's deep and dark and frightening.

I keep my back to him as I respond, "What do you mean?" Nonchalant. Good work. My fingernails end up between my teeth being tugged and ripped to shreds by my bite force.

"Something is not right. And I am not just referring to you being ill. Or not ill. Maybe," Anger. I feel it begin at my chest and work its way everywhere. My head starts throbbing and my fingertips pulse with my erratic heartbeat.

Breathe, "I'm okay, Alex," I inch my feet towards him, swinging my body around. He moves in front of me at lightning speed and I try and move back, but his arm grips my waist. I am scared.

"Like hell you are, Lena. Talk to me," His eyes plead for me to understand. But I don't know what he wants me to get.

"Talk to you?" Calm down. Calm down. Breathe. Breathe.

"Yeah. Just," he pauses and releases me but I don't move. "Tell me what's wrong." His voice softens and his eyes dance around my face. I almost allow him the pleasure of jumping him. Just wrapping my arms around his neck, sinking my teeth into his bottom lip, and letting him moan and groan his way to my good graces. But I don't allow it.

"Alex, we need to talk about this," I say this calmly, looking at our feet placed not two inches away. Breath sneaks its way on my neck and I hear him pant lightly above me.

"Talk about what?" His voice shakes, not being able to hide his own insecurities. Does this make me feel better? Because he might be afraid that I'm leaving him. I can't do that, though. So I sit down on the bed and pat the space next to me. He nods and slides in place, facing me. I look at my hands, which have begun to shake against my severe wishes.

"Okay…" I begin, already exhausted, "Why...no," I pause, grabbing his hand. The shock and intensity of the movement glimmers through us both and my heart speeds up, swelling sweat beads on my palms. _Calm down, Lena. Not the first time you've touched him._ "What changed?" I ask, realizing how utterly vague that question is.

"What do you mean?" Alex's hand is still in mine, pulsing along with his heart, mingling with my nervous buzz.

"What changed with us?" I remove my hand, instantly missing the connection. "We were good. We left our old lives behind. I abandoned my whole world to escape with you. Everything was going great. You and I were never closer. I mean, I… I slept with you. I went against all those stupid rules and indulged in a selfish act for you. For us. And now, after however long we've been here, you don't speak to me. Don't look at me like that, Alex. You know it's been happening. You're angry all the time, you shoot death glares my way. You _never_ touch me anymore. And you don't ever talk to me.

"I'm scared, Alex. This world is scary. It is unmarked territory. Beautiful and thrilling, but still so new. You know where we are, Alex. This is your life. And I'm afraid that now we're here, where you belong, I'm not enough anymore. Is that it? Am I just not fitting in with you here?" I feel a tear stripe a mark down my cheek. I watch his eyes follow it down onto my chest. His hand reaches out and with his thumb, he collects the salty liquid, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

My mind fuzzes as the place where he touched me pulsates, but I wait patiently for a response. This could be the end.

"What do you want me to do?" His voice remains quiet and steady, but I can feel his nervousness.

"I want you to want this. To need this like I do. Because I can't be here, I can't stay with you if you don't let me in. I gave it all up for you. I gave up naivety and security for us. So, what changed?" I look at him with challenge in my eyes, but I could feel it falter when he let out a shaky sigh that immediately turned into a choked sob.

Alex's left hand, golden in the moonlight seeping through the open door, moves to his mouth and he clenches his eyes shut. A strangled spurt of tears leak down his scruffy face, getting caught in the mangled hairs of his untamed facial hair.

I freeze. And I hate it, but my mind runs through a thousand opportunities and I refuse to take any one of them.

He sits there, quietly shaking with rough sobs that barely escape through the slits between his fingers. My eyes stare at everything in front of me. The way Alex's hair has grown slightly, gently covering his ears with bronze waves of glory. How his arms, unclothed at this hour of the night, seem somehow smaller and bigger. But what catches me by surprise was how sad and tired he looked.

Suddenly, him ignoring me doesn't matter anymore.

I stand up quickly, catching his eyes following me, and kneel down to lay my head on his lap. I run soothing lines of my hand up and down his thigh, training my eyes on the plastic paneled-wall.

Alex's body stops shaking. My hand ceases movement along the beaten trouser leg of Alex's pyjamas. The crickets stop chirping. The wind stops rustling. My heart stops beating.

And we wait.

A crack in the silence sends shivers down my spine. "Lena, I love you," he whispers. "I don't know what to do about how much I love you. This, this feeling of helplessness whenever I see you, I don't get it. I have nothing to offer you. No money, no safety, no life. But you followed me here anyway." His hand begins to caress my hair while the other runs the length of my forearms crossed over his thighs.

"I don't deserve you. I've been alone all my life, so trying to figure out for these past months that I have someone actually waiting on me to come home - my mind hasn't yet wrapped around it. You make me want to come home, but I just don't know how I'm supposed to be with you when this world is so broken. We are broken. All of us. And I've brought you here, to this broken land. God, why couldn't I have just left you alone!" His sudden outburst of fury startles me and I jump up, my stomach lurching. I force myself to stand up straight and ignore the burning sensation of acid as it attempts to creep up my throat.

"Do you mean that?" I ask, moving towards him again. I hold his face in my hands. I look at this gentle giant, fear swimming in his eyes. I can feel my own eyes burn with tears, but I stay staring.

"No," he sighs out. "But I'm so afraid it'll become true."

"You're scared that we'll grow apart? That this will lose its meaning?" I gesture between us, releasing his soft skin. He simply nods, bowing his head and capturing his hair with his hands roughly. "Alex," I whisper and he looks at me with a red face, "that will never happen."

"You can't promise forever," he groans, twisting his head around.

"No, but I can promise right now. And tomorrow. It doesn't just switch off like a light. If you're so scared that we're going to lose each other, why do you hide away from me?" Alex's eyes roam my body and he reaches out to my waist, pulling his head to my stomach. A flash of heat courses through me, landing at my core and I whimper slightly.

"You're making it so difficult to be angry at you." My voice creaks in the quiet night and he chuckles against the fabric of my shirt.

A line of my stomach peaks through my clothing and the fingers of his left hand graze my skin agonizingly slow.

I can feel my flesh begin to rise with goosebumps as the cool air from the forest mixes with Alex's movements. He slides his thumb across my stomach, reaching his hands up my shirt, letting it ride up. He circles his fingers around my waste, clasping onto me.

"Do you want to be angry at me?" He asks huskily, craning his neck to look me in the eye. I fear my voice will break if I speak, so I simply shake my head. "Good."

He stands up slowly, still holding onto my sides, and towers over me. I shake silently, my hands trembling. His face inches forward to mine and he places his nose against my own. Eyes flutter close and he leans in. I feel his breath on my face before his lips come close to mine. It tingles on my skin and my mouth aches from anticipation.

It is like an explosion.

Like all of the stars in the sky decided to implode at once.

Bright lights, supernovas almost, flash behind my eyes in a series of short bursts. One after the other, rolling around and making me shake with an energy and electricity that I'd never felt before.

Heat sears through me, snapping and crackling loudly in my ears. I open my eyes for a second, but the overwhelming sensitivity of all my nerves force them shut again. He lets go of my waste and moves his hands up and down my back, rubbing furiously quick as if attempting to dissolve my shirt.

I break away from him and see the shock in his eyes. His eyes are lustful and his mouth is swollen. My inhibitions fly away from body as I strip my shirt off and collapse onto Alex once more.

I immediately feel his body react as I smooth my skin against his in a frenzy of emotion. Everything, all the stupid things that had happened since coming here, rush to the surface and I need an escape. So I choose him. Him who loves me to the point of being afraid.

Hands begin running along my back and I feel Alex unclasp my bra swiftly as if he's done it a million times. Which he hasn't. My mind buzzes and my skin crawls as I wait patiently for him to pull the straps down my arms and touch me.

It becomes difficult to contain myself and I almost do it myself when he slips my bra off entirely and flings it haphazardly to the grimy floor of the trailer. His fingers graze every inch of my stomach and chest, pulling and twisting my breasts in the most passionate and intoxicating ways.

This is all I need. Right now. But, God, I want so much more.

Removing his shirt is another story entirely. His hands are too busy pleasing me. I tug hard and he gets the message, lifting his arms for a split second, just long enough for the article of clothing to be discarded, before returning his fingertips to my chest.

His touch is like fire. It spreads a flame of glory along my breasts as he fumbles lazily, squeezing and pinching in the most purposeful ways. My head rolls back and I whimper out.

"Lena," he whispers. I snap my head back up, thanking whoever was out there that I did not get a crick in my neck.

"What?" I sigh, rubbing my chest against his. He moans loudly and I giggle against the skin of his neck, biting softly at his pulse point. I can feel it against my teeth _thud…thud…thud_.

"Shhh," he smiles but I suddenly remember our door is wide open. I gallop up and run to the door, shutting it as quietly and as quickly as possible. I lean my head against in and let out a contended sigh. And then I laugh. A hearty, deep laugh that I can feel bubble from my stomach and into my throat before escaping my lips.

I bounce towards a grinning Alex, stopping when I realise my boobs are actually bouncing. But a smile tugs at my lips when I notice Alex staring at them.

A blush creeps along my upper body, increasing the flaming sensation.

He stands up and wraps his arms around me, our chests touching ever so slightly. He walk backwards for a few steps before slumping on the bed. I straddle Alex, holding his face in my two hands. I tilt his head up just enough so that my breath can tickle his lips.

If I had a camera, I would want to snap this moment. He looks longingly into my eyes and I stare wildly back at him. Our naked upper bodies are grazing just enough to excite me and make me tingle in places I never thought it were possible to tingle.

I let out shaky breath after shaky breath before giving in. "I love you." I spit as I attack his lips. This time it's harsh and rough. Angry, almost. Like I'm making him pay for not speaking to me. Not touching me. Not admitting that he still loved me.

He pulls on my lips with the same intensity, swallowing my grief and anger with his muffled moans. His calloused hands slowly tingle up and down my back and I arch into his touch. I want to be dominant here, though. I can feel my animalistic instincts kicking in as I shove him hard on the chest and pin him down on the bed, stretching his arms above his head and holding them there.

Alex smirks at me, but I shut up his eminent snarky comment by striking his mouth once more.

A thought settles in the back of my mind as I weave my free hand down this man's chest, feeling the hairs of his so-called "happy trail," and underneath the fabric of his boxer shorts, _Why the hell was this considered sinful and wrong?_

As my mind ponders on the question, I snake a hand around him, shocking even myself with the bold move. He tries to sit up, but my grip on his wrists must be too much for him in his foggy state because he stays down, slamming his eyes shut and letting out a guttural groan. With a shaky grasp, I move my hand up and down. I start slow, liking the way he twitches and how his hips gently move up and down.

When I begin to pick up speed, he yanks his arms free and stops me. A blush settles on my cheeks, but he smiles lazily. "No, don't. I just don't want to wait anymore."

It shocks me just a little that I know what he means, even with the exclusion of important words.

With a fire swelling in me, I stand up and impatiently pull at my pajama shorts. They slide down after a moment, followed quickly by my underwear. I look up to see Alex naked before me as well, ready to go.

I am about to jump him once more but he holds a hand up.

"Are you sure?" He asks and I'm almost offended but he points to my belly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I feel fine. I feel wonderful. I want to feel _you_," the last words are enough and he falls back on the bed, followed quickly by myself.

I sit on top of him, feeling myself tense at the anticipation. I sit up slightly on my knees, grabbing ahold of him gently in my hand. He's hard in my grip and I know I'm ready.

Aligning ourselves perfectly, I make my way down until I am sitting fully on him.

I expected pain or an uncomfortable sensation, but instead I only feel a buzzing. It begins slowly, the buzzing sensation. But as I sit there, staring at him, it rises and becomes a powerful hum.

And so begins the tangle of words. Of bodies. Of lust.

His hands are on my hips and I lean down to place my palms on his chest. Our touch is an explosion of heat and as I begin to slowly move up and down, I see that look in his eyes, the one I thought was lost.

It's rough and sloppy, but I am elated with happiness and a powerful wave of excitement. His hands travel up my sides like prickly thorns, the little hairs covering my body rising to his touch.

We are live wires, sparking with electricity; dangerous to the touch. Where his fingers graze me, he leaves an imprint of love and I can feel everything building up as he grabs my waist and thrusts up to meet me as I go down.

His groans of pleasure spur me on and I can't believe how long I waited before doing this again.

Hands travel to my back and begin scraping up and down, a pleasurable stinging sensation taking place of his nails. Just as I prepare myself for tumbling down, he moves and suddenly I'm lying on my side and can no longer see Alex.

I can feel him, though, moving behind me, trying desperately to reconnect our bodies. It's almost as if he's teasing me, waiting for me to slow down my want enough to start up again. I moan impatiently and that seems to be enough because he enters me again, slowly. He speeds up, breathing heavily on my neck, caressing every inch of my skin he can reach. He says my name softly, whispering it into my skin.

I absorb it and let his love soak through my body, sending shots of adrenaline through my veins. Because this is his love in its purest form. Murmuring a made up language filled with all the desperation and devotion he can muster up.

Now is the time where we can forget about all of it. About our problems and our stupid fights.

We are together, fitted perfectly like a lock and a key.

My frenzied thoughts are broken as his jolts get quicker. His hips hit my lower back roughly and he bites down on my shoulder trying dangerously to keep his voice quiet.

And then it begins.

That powerful blow beginning at my core that sends shoots of pleasure all throughout my body, curling my toes and fuzzing my brain completely.

We lay entwined, a pile of sweaty limbs and erratic hearts, for a moment as we gather our breaths.

He is the first to move, nudging my neck with his nose and whispering, "No regrets." It's a sigh of content.

My body shivers as he leaves me in the cooling air of September. He grabs a towel and begins to laugh. My eyebrow quirks up automatically in question.

He takes a moment to collect himself, but eventually calms down enough to talk, still giggling slightly. "I love you," he says, smiling sweetly. "I love you and sometimes I can't believe how much. Looking at you right now with sweat all over your body, with my sweat all over your body. With my, well, with my love all over your body. It just makes me realise how madly in love with you I am."

My breath catches in my throat and I ungracefully take a moment to cough loudly. His words ring through my mind. Everything is forgiven. "You need to start letting me in," I sigh, looking down. He nods his head above me towel still in hand. "And you need to trust me." He nods again, still smiling. "What's that towel for?" I ask. He begins to giggle again.

"To clean ourselves up," he chuckles through rosy cheeks.

I stand up slowly, my knees wobbling slightly, and make my way to him. "You're going to need to breathe eventually. Stop giggling." He holds the towel out to me and we both burst into a fit of laughter.

"I love you, too," it's a breathy confession, old in use but still fresh and true. He takes it in with a smirk in place and kisses my nose softly, swiftly taking the towel away from me to begin cleaning himself up. He turns to me after a moment of silence and motions to my body. I nod and he slides the cloth over me in full, bending down to wipe all the offending substances away.

That night, we curl into the bed together. Naked, like Adam and Eve. Innocent and alone.

Coiled in a blanket of warmth, he places a hand on my stomach. A shockwave ripples through my body at the touch, leaving me with a fuzzy feeling as I slowly drift off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, under the cool light of a beautiful sunrise, I remember something.

It was a thought I left in Portland.

It sat in my brain, dusted over with more important things like survival and Alex.

But now, as I wander by myself through the woods to find the creek, it slams into me like a train going full speed. I crumple to the ground in shock, holding my belly in confusion.

"No," I whisper into the air, watching as my worry dissipates into the atmosphere in the beautiful form of mist. A hunger that I've never experienced before gnaws in my stomach and I stand up quickly, watching stars spark in my vision. _Alex. Must find Alex._

They taught us about this. About the dangers of giving yourself to someone before marriage. Before matching you up with someone. It's one of the dangers of the _deliria. _

I stumble through the trees, listening faintly to my footsteps crumpling leaves. The door to the church is open and I make my way inside, running my hands through my hair and twisting my head around looking for him. I must look insane because people watch me with curious eyes. For once, I don't mind that men and women of all ages are staring at me. I need to find Alex.

"Alex," I cry out, feeling my throat begin to clench shut with anxiety. Tears begin to blur my vision as I make my way through the hallway, one hand on the wall, the other clutching my stomach. "Alex!" It's more of a croak than a word, but someone approaches me quickly, reaching out to hold me. I collapse into them, not bothering to check who is clinging to me.

"Lena," it's Alex's voice filled with uncertainty and adoration. "Lena, what's wrong?" I force myself to look at him, fearing that this is the end. I've ruined it all. He's going to hate me. I'm going to be thrown out.

Everything flashes before me, memories scattered here and there. Alex's face goes bleary and I shake my head. "Alex, I think," I break, bowing my head into his chest, inhaling his fresh scent. "I think I'm pregnant."

Silence follows, a haunting noise. Clattering forks hit metal as people's ears perk up to try and figure out what's going on. I look at Alex, watching as emotions swim across his face. They go so quick I can't process them.

His hold on me tightens and he touches his head to mine, connecting our foreheads. He blinks a tear from his eyes and kisses me softly, bringing a hand up to caress my cheek.

"What do we do?" I ask, my voice breaking. He shakes his head but continues to smooth his thumb gently across my cheek.

I hear someone coming towards us, her voice shrill and thick with southern blood.

Molly.

"Where is she?" She asks and I try to stand up. Alex grips me closer to him, though, forbidding my body to move. "Lena," her voice is next to my ear and I crane my neck to look her in the eye. "Lena, honey, come with me." She tries to coax me away from Alex, but neither of us wants to let go. Molly huffs, but eventually snaps her fingers in front of Alex's face as a signal for him to come along as well.

Together, all three of us make our way down the hallway into the makeshift hospital room.

I'm told to sit up the patient's chair, stolen during one of the delivery missions years ago. The leather is cracked and torn in many places. Pieces of fluff stick out and tickle my skin.

Alex is seated next to me, holding onto my hand like a lifeline, refusing to break contact with me. I try to figure out what's going on in his mind, but I can barely comprehend what I'm feeling so I give up fairly quick on that.

Molly runs to get one of the three Doctors we have with us. They all have different fancy titles, but I've never been one to really pay attention to that sort of stuff. They're all just Doctors to me.

A woman walks in followed by a smiling Molly. The latter's face is bright and shiny with a few tears and I can't help but feel a deep connection to this woman who has allowed me to bombard my way into her life. Molly takes my other hand and runs her thumb against the back of my hand soothingly. It's a different feeling to Alex's hold, which is more like a death grip than a tender grasp.

"Alright, Lena," The Doctor says, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. She sits in the chair opposite me and smiles. "You think you may be pregnant?" It's a blunt question with a yes or no answer, but my tongue twists and I find it difficult to say the word.

"Yes."

It's not my voice.

Molly is still looking at me, but her mouth closes and I eye her thankfully. She nods her head.

"Okay, when do you think this occurred?" I blink at the woman in front of me, unaware of how I am to answer this question. She smiles condescendingly and tries to elaborate. "When did you have the intercourse that then led to the possibility of you having a baby growing in your tummy?"

My reply is cautious and slow. "Sometime in August. Right before we came here." I don't even remember when that was. It feels like forever ago when I felt my final barrier being broken down by the man I love. Stupid, stupid. All of it.

"Okay then. And there was no protection used?" Protection. The briefest memory fills my mind. The health teacher standing before us young teenagers, separated clearly down the middle between desks by gender and then age.

_"Class," she said, "when you are married and feel the need to have," she paused, eyeing us with her one good eye, "sexual relations," the words dripped from her mouth like they were acid on her tongue, "and do not want to conceive a child, there is something that can be used to prevent pregnancy." She coughed and some boys and girls laughed. She slammed her fist onto her desk and the snickering stopped immediately. She pulled, very slowly out of a drawer, a package. It was plain white. She tore it open and, using tweezers, pulled it out. "This will be used." The words were quick to leave her mouth and she hurriedly, and probably embarrassedly, threw the package away and buried it beneath a stack of papers. _That was all. We didn't know what they were called. What they did. Where they went. It was just a ring. Someone went and dug it up after the bell had rung and the teacher had stormed off, her face blazingly red. We all waited around and watched him unravel it.

_"Do you think it goes on the dick?" He asked, a smirk placed on his lips. "I could demonstrate…" _But he didn't. And the next day he wasn't seen in school. Rumor has it he was sent to the Crypts.

A tugging on my hand repels me from my memory. It's Alex. "Lena, the Doctor asked you a question," I shake my head and look at the woman once more, my vision still glossy.

"No." I say plainly, looking at Alex. A pained expression flits across his face but is quickly replaced by a smile. A sad one, but still a smile.

The Doctor pats my knees and I recoil. She giggles, but removes her hands. "I'm going to ask you some intimate questions. Are you okay with these people being here?" I don't fully understand what she means, but I nod anyway. I trust Molly and Alex. It's the Doctor I don't trust. "Okay then, let's begin. Have you experienced any spotting?" I must look confused because she giggles condescendingly again and rephrases the question. "Any blood spotting outside of your regular menstrual cycle?"

Oh.

"No, not really. Once, I think." The Doctor nods and grabs a notebook, scribbling down her words fast.

"Okay, and what about any cramps?"

"Yes."

"Backache? That's a common one."

"Yeah, but I thought it was just a side effect of a bad bed." My attempt to lighten the mood doesn't work and we all sit in silence for a moment before the doctor continues.

"Frequent need to urinate?"

"Yes."

"Swollen or tender breasts?"

My face flushes and Alex's grip slacks off. He coughs gruffly into his elbow, mumbling an apology.

"Yes, actually." I say, recalling last night with a hot mind. The way Alex's hands slipped across my breasts hungrily and how sensitive to his touch I was. I move my head to look at him and he blushes, probably remembering last night as well.

"Alright, and what about morning sickness? Any upset stomach for no good reason? Morning sickness doesn't confine you to the morning. It can jump at you any time."

"Yes, definitely." My mind calms down for a moment and I enjoy the idea of not being terminally ill. But then I remember the high probability that I am carrying a child and that we have no means to care for a newborn here.

"Alright, these are all promising facts. Unfortunately, due to our situation, we will not be able to test if you are in fact pregnant. We have vitamins, though, that you should take just in case you are pregnant. And we'll limit your working schedule. You have a support system here, Lena. You've got a wonderful man by your side and Molly seems smitten on you as well. She won't stop talking about how wonderful you are." The two women laugh quietly as I try and process the information.

"So I'm pregnant?" I squeak, fear coiling in my belly. My eyebrows rise and Alex moves closer, resting his head on my shoulder.

"I am going to say that you are more likely pregnant than not. This will not limit you straight away, but due to being out here with limited medical supplies, we will have to keep you away from certain things. You should limit your contact with people physically. I don't mean sex. You can still enjoy sex. In fact, during pregnancy, your hormones will be all over the place and you'll most likely end up enjoying it more." Her eyes are bright and happy, but my brain is twisting over how nonchalantly she used the word _sex._

Alex is chuckling like a schoolboy into my neck and I think the doctor was right. His breath against my skin is making my hairs stand up and my stomach twist with pleasure. Last night was definitely different from the first time. But I guess the lack of pain and soreness wasn't the only reason it was better.

I'm slightly shocked at how calm everyone, including myself, is about the idea of a baby being born. So many things could happen. I could fall. Someone could push me. I could get a cold. What if a wild beast that is attracted to pregnant people decides to eat me?

"You're going to be okay. If anyone can do this, it's you." Alex's voice startles my tragically pathetic thoughts and I lean in to kiss him, feeling my excitement spark up again. _Stop it!_ I scold myself for wanting him in this time of uncertainty. "I love you, Lena. Still do. This is a little bit of a shock, but we can survive this. Together."

As I stare into his golden eyes twisted with flecks of green and spots of blue and black, as I overhear the Doctor (I will have to catch her name at some point) and Molly discuss what each multi-vitamin does, as I move my hand to clutch my belly and feel Alex's fingers fall in-between mine, I believe him. We will be okay. We can do this.

Together.

* * *

**A/N 2: **Well. It's not the best, I know. Or maybe it is. Who knows. You're all entitled to your own opinion. Feel free to let me know what you thought. Enough about the story, though, let's talk about the symbolism. So there is a Bible verse. It's way in the beginning of Genesis (Genesis 1:28, to be exact). It reads, "God blessed them; and God said to them 'Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it...'". That's all fancy words for find someone, have sex, and make babies. Subdue the earth, make it your own. With the idea that I have based this tale off of the not so romantic love story between Adam and Eve, I felt this quote was a good one to include. The song this chapter is named after is one from my all time favourite musical _Spring Awakening_. I've seen it four times on stage and it is such a good musical. I suggest going to YouTube and looking it up. I believe a couple of people have uploaded the original cast [which includes Lea Michele (of Glee fame), Skyler Astin (of Pitch Perfect fame), and Jonathan Groff (also, I guess, of Glee fame)] performing the musical.

The story behind the song "The Guilty Ones" is the two main characters (Wenda and Melchior) have just had sex. Wendla has no idea that what she has just done is called sex, leads to babies, and is "only" meant to be performed between married people (Oh, it's set in nineteenth century Germany by the way). The scene right before it happens where Melchior is seducing innocent Wendla and she's a bit nervous that I have actually memorised. She's trying to stop him, saying "We're not supposed to" he replies passionately asking "What? Not supposed to what? Love? I don't know, is there such a thing? I can feel you. I can feel you breathing everywhere. In the rain, by the hay. Please, please Wendla." And then he kisses her and she stops him, "No, it's just" and he interrupts her again, "It's what? Sinful? Why? Because it's good? Because it makes us _feel something?_" And then she gives in. That's more or less it. Look it up. It's Part 6 of 10 from the channel lilhappydonut. It's age restricted, by the way.

But afterwards, as you can imagine, she's confused. A line from the song, which was the first song I ever heard from the musical and made me fall in love with it, "And now our bodies are the guilty ones/ our touch will fill every hour/ huge and dark, oh our hearts/ will murmur the blues from on high." I suggest looking at all the music and stuff, but this song is so amazing just go and buy it and listen to it over and over again.

Adam and Eve were pure and innocent when God created them. He made them to be His children and to fill the earth with offspring of equal angelic nature. The world became tainted, though. It filled with sin and darkness, the Devil taking his place. Now the world is corrupt.

Now we are all the guilty ones.

I hope you enjoyed the latest installment. Sorry I babble so much about music and symbolism. It's kind of my thing. Analysis all the way, man! Wow, this got long.

Until next time,

(insert name here)

ps: I saw Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and twenty one pilots last month and it was amazing. Check twenty one pilots out! They need more love and support. And now, for an early birthday present but not really because I'm paying for my own ticket, I'm seeing Panic! again on January 28th. Excitement all around.


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